Battered
Save me from myself, my soul is dying.
My battered soul is longing to be healed by the elegant hands of a blessed magnanimous soul.
My restless soul is worn out, the once benevolent is now waiting for the time when it's finally turn into a void, a dull nothingness in the middle of my blood-fueled flesh. Like a prey, my soul is sure that there will come time when a crow-like death does it job, to eat every inch and fiber of my soul slowly, bitterly, greedily, achingly until everything is consumed inside the endless depth of the pit of death's body.
On the inside, where noone else can see touch or hear, my body is trying to adjust its function as a roof, as the pillars of my body, my own dying soul, are gradually taken one by one. The depth of my despair can no longer be counted. My body is trying to keep my body inside, to stay stronger than my mortal body, helping me to survive the after life, but my soul, though it may seem ageless, is older than my physical being and is dying to be dead. As of now, my body is taking over the spiritual and mental problems, it tries to function normally without the help of my helpless soul.
"Hopeless." my body says. "Doing all of this is hopeless, taking care of myself and my soul at the same time is hopeless. I may be dying as well."
My soul only smiles, it knows that sooner or later my flesh know that it is dying too.
"I can no longer bear this." says my soul. "You should find someone to fill the broken part of me or I will cease to exist."
"But where?" asks my body, my brain, specifically. "I can't see anyone with an excess of soul."
My soul smiles again. "It doesn't have to be like that, find someone who has a hole in other places except his heart, because the valley of mine is null."
"Where?"
"In order to find someone that can mend me, you must see his soul, not his physical being. See it with me. Until that person comes, I'll try to survive, but be hurry, I can see death lurking in the dark side of the moon."
My battered soul is longing to be healed by the elegant hands of a blessed magnanimous soul.
My restless soul is worn out, the once benevolent is now waiting for the time when it's finally turn into a void, a dull nothingness in the middle of my blood-fueled flesh. Like a prey, my soul is sure that there will come time when a crow-like death does it job, to eat every inch and fiber of my soul slowly, bitterly, greedily, achingly until everything is consumed inside the endless depth of the pit of death's body.
On the inside, where noone else can see touch or hear, my body is trying to adjust its function as a roof, as the pillars of my body, my own dying soul, are gradually taken one by one. The depth of my despair can no longer be counted. My body is trying to keep my body inside, to stay stronger than my mortal body, helping me to survive the after life, but my soul, though it may seem ageless, is older than my physical being and is dying to be dead. As of now, my body is taking over the spiritual and mental problems, it tries to function normally without the help of my helpless soul.
"Hopeless." my body says. "Doing all of this is hopeless, taking care of myself and my soul at the same time is hopeless. I may be dying as well."
My soul only smiles, it knows that sooner or later my flesh know that it is dying too.
"I can no longer bear this." says my soul. "You should find someone to fill the broken part of me or I will cease to exist."
"But where?" asks my body, my brain, specifically. "I can't see anyone with an excess of soul."
My soul smiles again. "It doesn't have to be like that, find someone who has a hole in other places except his heart, because the valley of mine is null."
"Where?"
"In order to find someone that can mend me, you must see his soul, not his physical being. See it with me. Until that person comes, I'll try to survive, but be hurry, I can see death lurking in the dark side of the moon."